On our way, today, from Puno in Peru to La Paz in Bolivia, gazing out upon the altiplano and the snow-topped mountains that frame it, I reflected that it is good to know that in spite of our passport worries and impending visa applications we have saved some of the best to the end of this insane, blink-of-an-eye, six month trip.
On Thursday 8th May we got up at 4.55am, pulled on some clothes in the early morning cold, made our way down to the lobby where a group of 20 Americans were groggily drinking coffee and eating breakfast, and lifted our bagged breakfasts of Inka Kola, bap, biscuits and chocolate. We had barely slept, not that night and not much of any of the recent nights. My shoulder isn't getting any better despite a week of anti-inflammatoriesa while back, combined with the cold of the altitude, bright streetlights, and the difficulties of adjusting to the Peruvian clock which allows the sun to rise by 6am but set by 6pm. These are not Sarah's standard operating hours, and a million miles away from what I consider 'sociable'. With barely a week left in Peru, and barely a week in Bolivia, I expect us to be back in a more normal time zone soon.
It's still black outside when we step forth from Viajeros and at the end of our street we can see the end of the line queueing for the first buses up to the ruins. I guess year on year the number of people who want to be up there for sunrise increases, and every year the travel guides will record this, fueling yet more people to get up at 5am and queue in the dark til 5.30am, when the first bus sets off up the hill, swooshing round the switchbacks, and opening its doors to the horde of topless lads and hippie chicks who walked up the steps for whatever reason. There, we capitalist pigs with our US$19 well spent can watch them drinking their bottles of water and sweating, being told to dress appropriately by the security guards, and that any behaviour deemed disrespectful on this sacred site will be dealt with swiftly and decisively. That means no walking around in a vest, horrid English chavs who surely cannot even spell Machu Picchu, but had to come here to boast about it when they get home.
I am, 24 weeks into this trip, utterly sick of the sort of vacuous travellers that are impossible to escape as a backpacker. Box-ticking, need-to-be-told-whats-cool, talking loud and endlessly about someone they met who was so cool and what an awesome time they had, not a single detail or fact or worthwhile breath emanating from their bodies. There ought to be a special fake set of ruins that all the people who just want to take four thousand 'selfies' can go to, with wi-fi, so they can upload what an awesome time they are having, being so good looking, straight onto Facebook, where all their friends who have no concept either that it is the mountain the ruins are on that is called Machu Picchu, not the ruins themselves, but what does that matter? It's more important to be there and have your picture taken with the beautful view than to have any actual understanding of the relevance of where you are standing, how it was created, the sophisticated philosophies and sciences of its inhabitants, whatever.
So there we are inside the ruins. They are incredible. The whole site is steeped in significance, from the sacred animals of the Incas (puma, condor, serpent) all being clearly visible in the geography, to the guides speculating that the whole complex may have been a university, to the astronomy observation deck, temple of the condor, sprawling tiers that edge their way down the sides of the mountains (both Machu Picchu, the 'Old Peak', and Wayna Picchu, or 'Young Peak' feature gravity-defying architecture), and the notorious Inka Trail, which popular knowledge understands runs from just outside Cusco to the Sun Gate (or 'Intipunka' in Quechua) which stands about a mile from the main site. In reality, the trail runs from Argentina all the way to Colombia. For those touting that they have walked the Inka Trail to the Sun Gate, well we walked to the Sun Gate inside the site (which is a fairly serious walk along the side of the mountain on a stone path) and have also walked sections of the Inka Trail outside of the Sacred Valley, so its not really very much to tout about, is it?
What is to be stressed is the beauty of this section of the Sacred Valley. Both Machu Picchu and Wayna Picchu (the duality of Inka thought), plus Putucusi (the single mountain that occupies the centre of the mystical circle) are washed in greens, trees abound, and beautiful little pink and purple flowers seem to float in front of you. The rock walls are peppered with purple cacti which add to the otherworldliness. The Rio Vilcanota runs around the bases, the ethereal serpent, and creating the circle are a gang of mountains almost as sacred as those in the centre (all the surround mountains feature small religious sites as well).
The ruins themselves are perched precariously on a pass stretching from the edge of Machu Picchu across to Wayna Picchu. They are huge though. The bog-standard photo does little justice to the ruins, which stretch up the mountain to the left of the photo, and the terraces which pitch down on either side. A few alpaca and llamas are grazing at the first terraces you reach on entry, which helps the feelgood tourist appeal, but after that (and the spot where the aforementioned famous landscape shot is taken) most of the site is a hard walk up and down stairs, in and out of well-preserved houses and granaries, along the terraces, and round about the temples and observatory. It is a hard walk. We arrived at 6am as the early sun rays warmed us. Seeing most of the site, not including the trips up to the peaks of the two mountains, took us seven hours. We were exhausted by 1pm and had to come back down. I wasn't for walking any further. With no toilets inside the site either (you have to leave for a wee) it makes it even more gruelling an experience.
The altitude still plays a part, even if the myth of acclimatising in Cusco has been debunked (Aguas Calientes and MP are both at a lower altitude than Cusco). After spending nearly three weeks over 2500m up we felt capable of a hard walk up and down steps at this height, and we did survive, but it must be stressed that those whose health or stamina might be more questionable ought to think about preparing for visiting here.
With our early photos in hand we walked out to the Sun Gate. It took about an hour to get there, including a brief stop to enjoy a dry bap and Inka Kola. It is worth it? You get a look at the end of the section of the Inka Trail that brings rich backpackers into the ruins (500 a day, all licensed by the Peruvian Government via tour operators, I'm sure its worth the GBP600 or so everyone pays) and the section of the valley through which the trail winds, and this is the only spot on the site where you could see this, so its good that way. We also saw an Australian guy doing some time-lapse photography, and its a fine spot for that. But I wouldn't say I'd do it again if I was back up on the mountain.
You spend a lot of time walking around looking at things you can't and don't understand. That's because you don't have a guide and nothing is labelled. Without a guide or a good book then a lot of the ruins are meaningless. That, as I ranted early, did not bother an awful lot of people, especially girls, who pose the same pose over and over again at every vantage point and just get in everyones' way. Our book explained a great deal, and we listened in to the English guides where possible to try and glean any extra information, but often it sounds highly speculative (which it is).
The map you receive at the gate sends you on a basic oval-shaped trek around the site in a clockwise manner with a few offshoots which mostly yield more spectacular views, particularly one which lets you see exactly the path you follow from the hydroelectric plant to Aguas Calientes. You run out of puff striding up the stairs to the guardhouse, around the terraces, back down, through the temple zone, up the pyramid, down and around the edges of the spacious central area, around the eating areas, living areas and grainstores, finishing off at the Temple of the Condor, in and out of a few random buildings to complete the set, along a final terrace and finally out the main gate after a few more snapshots of a llama.
It was absolutely worth waiting for. without a single doubt.
Now that we have done it I can safely say there are some snippets of advice we can pass on. Firstly, the weather plays an enormous part in your experience up there. I'm not sure whether everyone on the early buses appreciates this, but the very early light is great for photos. It's pleasantly warm to walk around, there's more space to move, and in theory (and I really mean in theory) you could enter the park at 6am and dash to the Sun Gate for some 'first rays' photos. But you'd half kill yourself in the process. This is also definitely not a suggestion that you have the site to yourself. From the moment you arrive at the gates you will be listening to a tirade of mouth-guff from other people who are fearless when it comes to letting other people know how ill informed they are. One woman said 'I wonder how big the mountains are at sunrise?', which I thought might have been a Deborah-ism except that its ridiculous, followed up with (same woman) "Is that the Amazon?", indicating the Rio Vilcanota. I had the pleasure of one girl loudly telling a story of her friends touting Katy Perry tickets which allowed them to travel round Europe for six months. By this point I was staring very very hard down the Sacred Valley and hoping for The End.
On a nicer note, we ran into a load of guys from Bradford and Cardiff doing the walk for Marie Curie Cancer Research, which was very laudable indeed.
Secondly, when the sun comes out it is hot. Very hot. I was in jumper and jeans, which became long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans, which became sunburnt. Do not underestimate the UV exposure you suffer in this part of Peru. The light naturally changes when the clouds go, allowing a different set of photos, but then its very difficult to predict when the clouds will move for you.
Thirdly, involving clouds, we know of many people who have been to the site and the clouds have obscured everything. If possible allow yourself an extra day just in case.
Fourth, the rules seem to be awfully flexible. The map says 'No food on site', but you bags are not checked and no one seemed very upset any time anyone had a bar of chocolate or drank a bottle of water. Just take your rubbish with you. Likewise, if you go in the main gate you will be told 'No hiking sticks', only to be enraged at spotting anyone arriving from the Inka Trail pounding along on the rocks with their walking aids. Ah, hypocracy.
Fifth, as previously stated do not rush the ruins. They take far longer than you expect. Had we opted to return to the town at 11.30am we would have missed a load of the ruins (not to mention wrecking ourselves in the process).
I'm sure there's more, you pick it up very quickly how you are favoured or not on the day of your visit. At 1.30pm, shattered, we went back to town, dropped off where we started eight and a half hours before, and fell into the nearest restaurant for a decent ceviche de trucha (trout ceviche). After that it was back to the hostel, hours of recovery, and simple basking in the glory of the architects of that site. Could they have known the fascination their work would provoke, centuries in the future? The work of the Incas is so rudimentary and intuitive, yet carried out with the most delicate and deft touch, that it is hard not to be awed by their achievements. That these works have endured for centuries is further testament to their skill. I sat at the base of the mountain, even thirstier to learn about a civilisation that created and understood so much, yet lasted less than a century.
On Thursday 8th May we got up at 4.55am, pulled on some clothes in the early morning cold, made our way down to the lobby where a group of 20 Americans were groggily drinking coffee and eating breakfast, and lifted our bagged breakfasts of Inka Kola, bap, biscuits and chocolate. We had barely slept, not that night and not much of any of the recent nights. My shoulder isn't getting any better despite a week of anti-inflammatoriesa while back, combined with the cold of the altitude, bright streetlights, and the difficulties of adjusting to the Peruvian clock which allows the sun to rise by 6am but set by 6pm. These are not Sarah's standard operating hours, and a million miles away from what I consider 'sociable'. With barely a week left in Peru, and barely a week in Bolivia, I expect us to be back in a more normal time zone soon.
It's still black outside when we step forth from Viajeros and at the end of our street we can see the end of the line queueing for the first buses up to the ruins. I guess year on year the number of people who want to be up there for sunrise increases, and every year the travel guides will record this, fueling yet more people to get up at 5am and queue in the dark til 5.30am, when the first bus sets off up the hill, swooshing round the switchbacks, and opening its doors to the horde of topless lads and hippie chicks who walked up the steps for whatever reason. There, we capitalist pigs with our US$19 well spent can watch them drinking their bottles of water and sweating, being told to dress appropriately by the security guards, and that any behaviour deemed disrespectful on this sacred site will be dealt with swiftly and decisively. That means no walking around in a vest, horrid English chavs who surely cannot even spell Machu Picchu, but had to come here to boast about it when they get home.
I am, 24 weeks into this trip, utterly sick of the sort of vacuous travellers that are impossible to escape as a backpacker. Box-ticking, need-to-be-told-whats-cool, talking loud and endlessly about someone they met who was so cool and what an awesome time they had, not a single detail or fact or worthwhile breath emanating from their bodies. There ought to be a special fake set of ruins that all the people who just want to take four thousand 'selfies' can go to, with wi-fi, so they can upload what an awesome time they are having, being so good looking, straight onto Facebook, where all their friends who have no concept either that it is the mountain the ruins are on that is called Machu Picchu, not the ruins themselves, but what does that matter? It's more important to be there and have your picture taken with the beautful view than to have any actual understanding of the relevance of where you are standing, how it was created, the sophisticated philosophies and sciences of its inhabitants, whatever.
So there we are inside the ruins. They are incredible. The whole site is steeped in significance, from the sacred animals of the Incas (puma, condor, serpent) all being clearly visible in the geography, to the guides speculating that the whole complex may have been a university, to the astronomy observation deck, temple of the condor, sprawling tiers that edge their way down the sides of the mountains (both Machu Picchu, the 'Old Peak', and Wayna Picchu, or 'Young Peak' feature gravity-defying architecture), and the notorious Inka Trail, which popular knowledge understands runs from just outside Cusco to the Sun Gate (or 'Intipunka' in Quechua) which stands about a mile from the main site. In reality, the trail runs from Argentina all the way to Colombia. For those touting that they have walked the Inka Trail to the Sun Gate, well we walked to the Sun Gate inside the site (which is a fairly serious walk along the side of the mountain on a stone path) and have also walked sections of the Inka Trail outside of the Sacred Valley, so its not really very much to tout about, is it?
What is to be stressed is the beauty of this section of the Sacred Valley. Both Machu Picchu and Wayna Picchu (the duality of Inka thought), plus Putucusi (the single mountain that occupies the centre of the mystical circle) are washed in greens, trees abound, and beautiful little pink and purple flowers seem to float in front of you. The rock walls are peppered with purple cacti which add to the otherworldliness. The Rio Vilcanota runs around the bases, the ethereal serpent, and creating the circle are a gang of mountains almost as sacred as those in the centre (all the surround mountains feature small religious sites as well).
The ruins themselves are perched precariously on a pass stretching from the edge of Machu Picchu across to Wayna Picchu. They are huge though. The bog-standard photo does little justice to the ruins, which stretch up the mountain to the left of the photo, and the terraces which pitch down on either side. A few alpaca and llamas are grazing at the first terraces you reach on entry, which helps the feelgood tourist appeal, but after that (and the spot where the aforementioned famous landscape shot is taken) most of the site is a hard walk up and down stairs, in and out of well-preserved houses and granaries, along the terraces, and round about the temples and observatory. It is a hard walk. We arrived at 6am as the early sun rays warmed us. Seeing most of the site, not including the trips up to the peaks of the two mountains, took us seven hours. We were exhausted by 1pm and had to come back down. I wasn't for walking any further. With no toilets inside the site either (you have to leave for a wee) it makes it even more gruelling an experience.
The altitude still plays a part, even if the myth of acclimatising in Cusco has been debunked (Aguas Calientes and MP are both at a lower altitude than Cusco). After spending nearly three weeks over 2500m up we felt capable of a hard walk up and down steps at this height, and we did survive, but it must be stressed that those whose health or stamina might be more questionable ought to think about preparing for visiting here.
With our early photos in hand we walked out to the Sun Gate. It took about an hour to get there, including a brief stop to enjoy a dry bap and Inka Kola. It is worth it? You get a look at the end of the section of the Inka Trail that brings rich backpackers into the ruins (500 a day, all licensed by the Peruvian Government via tour operators, I'm sure its worth the GBP600 or so everyone pays) and the section of the valley through which the trail winds, and this is the only spot on the site where you could see this, so its good that way. We also saw an Australian guy doing some time-lapse photography, and its a fine spot for that. But I wouldn't say I'd do it again if I was back up on the mountain.
You spend a lot of time walking around looking at things you can't and don't understand. That's because you don't have a guide and nothing is labelled. Without a guide or a good book then a lot of the ruins are meaningless. That, as I ranted early, did not bother an awful lot of people, especially girls, who pose the same pose over and over again at every vantage point and just get in everyones' way. Our book explained a great deal, and we listened in to the English guides where possible to try and glean any extra information, but often it sounds highly speculative (which it is).
The map you receive at the gate sends you on a basic oval-shaped trek around the site in a clockwise manner with a few offshoots which mostly yield more spectacular views, particularly one which lets you see exactly the path you follow from the hydroelectric plant to Aguas Calientes. You run out of puff striding up the stairs to the guardhouse, around the terraces, back down, through the temple zone, up the pyramid, down and around the edges of the spacious central area, around the eating areas, living areas and grainstores, finishing off at the Temple of the Condor, in and out of a few random buildings to complete the set, along a final terrace and finally out the main gate after a few more snapshots of a llama.
It was absolutely worth waiting for. without a single doubt.
Now that we have done it I can safely say there are some snippets of advice we can pass on. Firstly, the weather plays an enormous part in your experience up there. I'm not sure whether everyone on the early buses appreciates this, but the very early light is great for photos. It's pleasantly warm to walk around, there's more space to move, and in theory (and I really mean in theory) you could enter the park at 6am and dash to the Sun Gate for some 'first rays' photos. But you'd half kill yourself in the process. This is also definitely not a suggestion that you have the site to yourself. From the moment you arrive at the gates you will be listening to a tirade of mouth-guff from other people who are fearless when it comes to letting other people know how ill informed they are. One woman said 'I wonder how big the mountains are at sunrise?', which I thought might have been a Deborah-ism except that its ridiculous, followed up with (same woman) "Is that the Amazon?", indicating the Rio Vilcanota. I had the pleasure of one girl loudly telling a story of her friends touting Katy Perry tickets which allowed them to travel round Europe for six months. By this point I was staring very very hard down the Sacred Valley and hoping for The End.
On a nicer note, we ran into a load of guys from Bradford and Cardiff doing the walk for Marie Curie Cancer Research, which was very laudable indeed.
Secondly, when the sun comes out it is hot. Very hot. I was in jumper and jeans, which became long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans, which became sunburnt. Do not underestimate the UV exposure you suffer in this part of Peru. The light naturally changes when the clouds go, allowing a different set of photos, but then its very difficult to predict when the clouds will move for you.
Thirdly, involving clouds, we know of many people who have been to the site and the clouds have obscured everything. If possible allow yourself an extra day just in case.
Fourth, the rules seem to be awfully flexible. The map says 'No food on site', but you bags are not checked and no one seemed very upset any time anyone had a bar of chocolate or drank a bottle of water. Just take your rubbish with you. Likewise, if you go in the main gate you will be told 'No hiking sticks', only to be enraged at spotting anyone arriving from the Inka Trail pounding along on the rocks with their walking aids. Ah, hypocracy.
Fifth, as previously stated do not rush the ruins. They take far longer than you expect. Had we opted to return to the town at 11.30am we would have missed a load of the ruins (not to mention wrecking ourselves in the process).
I'm sure there's more, you pick it up very quickly how you are favoured or not on the day of your visit. At 1.30pm, shattered, we went back to town, dropped off where we started eight and a half hours before, and fell into the nearest restaurant for a decent ceviche de trucha (trout ceviche). After that it was back to the hostel, hours of recovery, and simple basking in the glory of the architects of that site. Could they have known the fascination their work would provoke, centuries in the future? The work of the Incas is so rudimentary and intuitive, yet carried out with the most delicate and deft touch, that it is hard not to be awed by their achievements. That these works have endured for centuries is further testament to their skill. I sat at the base of the mountain, even thirstier to learn about a civilisation that created and understood so much, yet lasted less than a century.
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